


my boyfriend's back (and you're gonna get in trouble)

by teacupfulofbrains



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (plus matt sometimes), Fluff, M/M, except for two, galaxy garrison meme team™, keith "i lived in a desert shack for a year what's a vine" kogane, keith doesn't understand memes, lance "i'm a memer dating a meme noob" mcclain, lance and pidge and hunk are the meme squad, soft bois in love, this is way too long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 11:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14354448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupfulofbrains/pseuds/teacupfulofbrains
Summary: hey la, hey la, my boyfriend's backKeith Kogane has never heard of Vine. Lance McClain takes personal offense to this, and makes it his personal mission to teach his boyfriend to meme. Keith is confused, mostly.(OR: several instances of Keith not getting the meme™ and two times he did)





	my boyfriend's back (and you're gonna get in trouble)

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be, like 1k words  
> it's 21 pages and 8k  
> help, i've fallen down a rabbithole and i can't get up  
> i spent two hours watching vine compilations to research this instead of writing papers oh well ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Keith’s first memory of Lance (because once they get stuck in space together, he realizes he _does_ remember) is the Galaxy Garrison cafeteria. He’s waiting in line for the soft drinks machine, and there is a tall, lanky boy with an absolute mop of dark brown hair taking forever to decide what he wants. By Keith’s increasingly irritated watch-count, the boy spends exactly one-hundred ninety-five seconds flicking his eyes back and forth between the twelve different options. 

“Will you just hurry up and pick already?” Keith snaps; he’s meant to be meeting Shiro for an extra practice session in the simulator, and if he doesn’t eat quickly he’ll be late. Shiro’s technically bending the rules for him, and he doesn’t want to impose.

The other cadet turns, looks at him, and his eyes are the bluest thing Keith’s ever seen. He remembers looking at the Star of Bombay in a museum, once, and this boy’s eyes are deeper and more beautiful that gemstone had ever been. Without breaking eye contact, he sweeps his cup from one side of the drinks machine to the other, pressing every lever and getting a little bit of ever drink in the cup, and then downing the whole thing in one go.                                                                                             

“Fuck you,” he says, smirking. Keith is about to fistfight him, protocol and simulator practice be damned, but someone calls the other cadet, and he winks – _winks_ – before turning around and sauntering away. Keith doesn’t know why this boy hates him, but he decides then and there that he hates him too. 

Later, much later, Lance is sprawled on the castle’s sofa, Keith tucked against his side, ear on his chest and mouth on his neck. “I do remember you,” Keith mumbles, enjoying the feeling of Lance’s skin against his lips and Lance’s scent in his nose and Lance’s long, nimble fingers tracing little meaningless patterns along the back of his hand. 

“Hmm?” 

“From the Garrison. I do remember you. I could never forget you.” Lance laughs, and Keith feels it more than he hears it. He likes the easy comfort they have now, the soft snuggles and good-luck kisses and holy-shit-I-can’t-believe-we-survived-that-shit kisses. He doesn’t want to dredge up the past, but he thinks he owes it to Lance. “I just always thought you hated me – you know, because of the drinks machine thing, and –”

“The what?” Keith tips his head back, just enough to see Lance peering down at him, eyes as blue as always, beautiful in his confusion. “Keith, I remember you from the Garrison too, but what the quiznak are you talking about?”

“The first time I met you,” Keith says. “In the lunchroom. You were taking forever to pick a drink, so I snapped at you, and then you pressed all the buttons and drank it without breaking eye contact and then said ‘Fuck you’ and walked off.” Lance laughs even harder, sitting up and forcing Keith sit up as well.

“Keith, my man, that was a reference. To a _Vine_.”

Keith is hopelessly lost. “What the fuck is a Vine?”

Lance stares at him, gaping, open-mouthed. “You – are you saying – do you seriously – _oh my god you really don’t know I have to get Pidge._ ”

Keith doesn’t know how Pidge pulls up the video. He watches it seventeen times in a row (it’s easy, the video is short), and still doesn’t understand why Pidge and Lance crack up every time it plays.

*~*~*~*~*

“It is my honor to be welcomed aboard the Castle of Lions,” Lotor says, oily and slick, bowing to Princess Allura with the stiffest of formalities. Keith rolls his eyes when Lotor looks at the floor, and he can see Pidge aggressively flipping him off. When Lotor straightens up, however, Pidge is the picture of composure, although she’s still scowling.

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Lance mutters, low enough that only Keith can hear him. “I’m sure it is your privilege to learn all our treasured secrets.” Lotor looks unbearably smug, and Keith kind of wants to stab him. His hand twitches, but before he can reach for his knife, Lance grabs his hand and laces their fingers together. 

“I have full intention of reforming the Galra Empire. And I want you to know that I do apologize, truly, for my actions in the Thayserix incident.”

“Why the fuck you lyin’?” Pidge mutters. Lotor turns toward her.

“Excuse me, _Green Paladin_?” It must be something in his tone that sets her off, because all of a sudden Pidge is doing a _ridiculous_ pose and grinning like a madwoman and Keith thinks she might be attempting to sing but it’s so loud and off-key that he really doesn’t know what to make of it. He’s not sure what he expected.

“Why the fuck you lyin’?”

“Why you always lyin’?” Lance yells, pulling away from Keith to drop into a different, equally as weird pose next to Pidge. They both look at Hunk, who rolls his eyes and spins around and strikes a _third_ ridiculous pose. 

“Mmm, oh my God, bitch,” he shouts. The three of them drop into the same weird squat and scream the last part together, with Matt chorusing in from the control panel.

“ _Stop fuckin’ lyin’!”_  

Keith looks at Shiro, who shrugs nonchalantly even though he can plainly see their leader fighting to keep his composure. Allura just looks confused, Matt is laughing so hard he’s fallen off the seat, Coran looks mildly amused, and Lotor looks positively outraged.

“Is this a meme?” Keith asks, and Lance joins Matt in laughing on the floor.

*~*~*~*~*

The kitchen at 2 am is not a place Keith typically finds himself. But he’s been training late, by himself, and he knows Hunk leaves food in there sometimes. He’s not expecting much, but he’s used to leftovers, and Hunk’s leftovers are better than some fully-cooked meals he had at the shack. He’s expecting a plate, wrapped up, with a space sticky note and Hunk’s cheery handwriting.

He is _not_ expecting to find Hunk, standing there, with a blanket wrapped around his head like a shawl, wearing a pair of the glasses from Coran’s space mall escapade. The second Keith steps into the kitchen, music starts playing, and Hunk starts aggressively bopping side-to-side. Out of nowhere, Lance springs out from behind Hunk, also wrapped in a blanket and wearing sunglasses, bopping back and forth at the same rapid pace. 

“What the –”

Pidge pops out on Hunk’s other side. She, too, is wearing a blanket and glasses and bouncing back and forth in perfect synchronization with the other two. Keith watches for about three ticks before deciding that this is all an exhaustion hallucination and leaving. 

“Nope, no, not doing this tonight, not now, not ever.”

*~*~*~*~*

“I don’t _believe_ this!” Hunk shrieks. Lance smiles guiltily, shoving the last of Hunk’s space brownies into his mouth. Keith rolls his eyes from the counter; he warned Lance about eating Hunk’s food. His conscience is clear.

Hunk shakes his head in disgust. “Lance, I thought you were bae.”

“Wait, Hunk, no –”

“Turns out you’re just fam.” 

“Hunk, please!”

Hunk makes a weird surfer-ish gesture with his hand and walks away. Lance sets the plate down and wails in agony. Keith rolls his eyes again. He’s truly surprised that he doesn’t have eye strain.

*~*~*~*~*

“Hey, Lance, how much GAC do you have?” 

“Um . . . about sixty-nine GAC.”

“OOOOOOH YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?”

“I don’t have enough money for chicken nugget!”

Lance is sniffling, all of a sudden, and Keith is tugging his boyfriend against his chest and glaring at Pidge, who’s bent over in laughter. 

“Keith, babe, I’m _fine_ , it’s a _meme_ , oh my god!” 

“She made you cry. I’m gonna kill her.” 

“You will _not_! It’s a _joke,_ I’m – babe. Babe. Look at me. I’m fine. Don’t stab Pidge.”

*~*~*~*~*

Technology isn’t _really_ Keith’s forte, but he finds it interesting. He likes watching the way all the little bits and pieces fit together, likes watching a million tiny cogs come together to form one unified machine doing one unified task. It reminds him of Voltron, his newfound family.

Matt and Pidge are much more technologically inclined than he is. They spend hours holed up in the lion’s hangar, working on new tech, and sometimes Hunk goes to bring the food and gets distracted by whatever they’re doing and disappears for hours on end. Keith sharpens his knife and cleans his armor and lets the soothing technobabble wash over him.

Today, Matt and Pidge bring one of their new inventions into the training room. It’s some kind of mechanical arm, and Matt looks unreasonably proud of it. From what little Keith could follow of their conversations, this is Matt’s pride and joy, something he designed and built all by himself with no collaboration from his sister or Hunk.

“It’s designed for long-range targets, like a trebuchet, but with way better aim! Watch this!” 

Matt picks up a flat disk that looks kind of like a Frisbee and inserts it into the robot’s metal pincers. He starts fiddling with the buttons on the side, and the arms whips around and around and around in a circle, and when it finally releases, the disc goes flying. 

It embeds itself in the control room windshield with a sharp _crack_.

Everyone stands in silence for a moment, eyes flicking back and forth between the disc and Matt’s shocked, bloodless face.

Before anyone can say anything, Pidge and Lance shriek, in unison, “ _What the fuck, Richard_?”

Keith doesn’t bother pointing out that that’s Matt and not Richard. This is probably a reference, anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

Eventually, Allura takes pity on them and tells them how to work the Altean pool. Lance and Keith are, of course, the first ones to go, still bickering with each other, still fighting all the way to kingdom come, still simmering with unresolved sexual tension. They make their way to the pool in stony silence, sit far apart from each other, soaking in the water and enjoying a brief respite from saving the universe. 

Neither of them notice the tiny camera clinging to the ceiling.

When they rejoin the team, Pidge pulls up a still of them on opposite ends of the pool and sing-songs, “Two bros, chillin’ in a hot tub, five feet apart cause they’re not _gay_!” Keith is confused, Lance turns a brilliant scarlet and vehemently denies it, and they end up making out in Lance’s room that night. 

Pidge was wrong. Keith can count the number of times that’s happened on one hand.

*~*~*~*~*

The soft-drinks machine boy is in Keith’s intro physics class. He stands in the front and introduces himself, eyes shining blue, blue, blue, and the sunlight strike his skin and makes it glow. Keith makes eye contact with him, and he winks, and Keith averts his eyes furiously and resolves to never look this boy in the eyes again.

“Hey there, everyone. My name is Lance with a B, and I’ve been afraid of insects my entire life.”

Lance-with-a-B’s friend, the one from the cafeteria, puts his hand up. “Whoa, whoa, stop. Where.”

“Where what?” Lance asks. A few of the other students are snickering. Keith is confused. 

“Where’s the B?” Lance’s friend says, along with about six other people.

“There’s a bee?” Lance whimpers, even though he’s laughing. The entire class erupts into laughter, and Keith just sits there, lost on the joke, drinking in Lance’s laughter. It’s the most beautiful music he’s ever heard.

*~*~*~*~*

Something smacks Lance in the back of the head, clattering to the ground. Keith picks it up, unfolds and flattens the paper to see a shitty caricature. It’s two stick figures, one drawn in red and the other in blue, wrapped around each other, faces pressed together in a crude imitation of a kiss.

Lance mutters something, low and ominous, without even looking at the drawing. 

“What, Lance?” Hunk calls. 

“Speak up!” Pidge says, laughing. Matt is standing behind her, snickering.

“I said whoever threw that paper, _your mom’s a ho_!” Lance flings himself across the room and tackles Pidge. While they’re distracted wrestling, Keith folds the paper into quarters and tucks it into his pocket. Later that evening, he tacks it up on his bedroom wall. It joins a small collection of photos: the original five paladins, in their armor; Keith and Shiro, from right before Shiro went on the Kerberos mission; a selfie of him and Lance, cheeks smushed together; a sketch Keith did, hastily, of Lance’s face, in black-and-white graphite shading save for the deep blue of his eyes.

Lance blushes when he sees the drawing on the wall, but doesn’t say anything.

*~*~*~*~*

“Hey, Pidge, can you read me those coordinates?" 

“No I cannot!”

“What the –”

“What up, I’m Jared, I’m nineteen, and I never fuckin’ learned how to read!”

“Pidge, you’re the most intelligent person here, I know you can read.” 

“Keith, it’s – nevermind. It’s not important. It’s a meme.”

“Of course it is.”

*~*~*~*~*

Keith presses his back against Lance’s, feeling the warm comfort of another person as the drones whir to life. Shiro calls, “Are you two ready?” 

“Ready as we’ll ever be, Space Daddy!”

“Lance, I swear to God, I’m gonna let these drones kill you.”

“You wouldn’t, Emo _Spicy_ Boi.” 

Keith enjoys sassing Lance as much as the next person, but then Shiro is giving them the thumbs-up from the control room and the drones are firing. Lance is still laughing, but out of the corner of his eye, Keith can see his face settle into serious mode. The joking glint in his eyes is gone, his jaw is tensed just so, and his entire body is coiled like a spring. 

They spin in a circle, backs pressed together, shields raised, deflecting lasers left and right. Keith snaps his Blade knife into his hand and throws it like a boomerang, taking out five drones in one go. Fifteen more take their place as the knife returns to his hand.

“There’s too many!” Lance says, voice raised over the cacophony of lasers. Keith grits his teeth and lets his blade grow to deflect a laser from hitting Lance in the head. Logically, he knows that these aren’t real, knows that Lance won’t actually get _hurt_ , that he’ll just drop through the floor and land harmlessly on the padding they’ve set up. He knows Lance won’t die. But watching that bolt of light arc through the air towards his beloved – towards _any_ of his teammates, but especially Lance – sends a jolt of disgust and fear and horror through him like nothing else in this galaxy. 

In the beginning, all five of them could barely last a minute. But now they’re the dynamic duo, Lance and Keith, unstoppable space boyfriends, swinging in to kick your ass without breaking a sweat. But they falter, inevitably; six and a half minutes in, Lance’s shield is a hair too slow, Keith takes a laser to the arm, and he tumbles through the floor. He lands funny, doesn’t get up for a minute even when he hears the whirring that signifies Lance dropping in to join him. 

“You there, Keith?” Lance groans. Keith grunts, unwilling to get up, and then something is prodding him in the side.

“Miss Keisha? Miss Keiiishaaaa. Miss Keisha! Oh my fuckin’ God, she fuckin’ dead.” 

Keith sits bolt upright, alarmed, but Lance is laughing, head thrown back, mouth wide open, eyes bright. He leans forward and kisses Keith, and it’s warm and soft and everything Keith loves about him, and he’s still here and he’s still _alive_ and Keith is the luckiest boy in the galaxy.

*~*~*~*~*

The map Allura is looking at disappears, replaced with a blinking _Incoming Transmission_ icon. “It’s probably Lotor,” Keith says, and Lance’s face contorts into a disgusted scowl. Keith sympathizes, taking Lance’s hand and rubbing his thumb across his knuckles.

“No, it can’t be,” Hunk says. “Matt and Pidge rigged any transmissions from him to play _Never Gonna Give You Up_ whenever they ring, remember? Answer it, Allura, it might be a distress call.”

Allura opens the message, and it pixelates in to reveal Pidge, perched in the cockpit of the Black Lion, cackling like a madwoman.

“How did she even get in there?” Lance squawks.

“I’m in me dad’s car! Broom broom!” Pidge says, affecting what Keith thinks is supposed to be a British accent. Lance and Hunk turn to Shiro, who’s staring daggers at the screen. No one says anything for several ticks, Pidge maintaining cocky eye contact with Shiro.

“Get out me car,” Shiro deadpans, in the same weird British accent. Lance drops onto the ground in laughter. 

“Aww,” Pidge whines, hanging up the call.

“But how did she get in there in the first place?” Keith wonders. No one answers him.

*~*~*~*~*

“Matthew Holt, are you _single modulating?_ ”

Hunk is cackling victoriously, Pidge is gripping her bayard and fuming, and Matt is slowly inching away from his sister.

“Katie, it’s not what you think, I –”

“ _I won’t hesitate, bitch_!” Pidge says. She lifts her bayard and fires it directly into Matt’s chest. He shudders with the electric shock it releases and collapses into a smoking heap on the ground.

Lance giggles, causing a sleepy Keith to lift his head from his shaking shoulders. “What’s so funny, babe?”

“Nothing, Keith,” Lance says, kissing his head. “Nothing at all.”

*~*~*~*~*

Pidge is hanging upside down on the couch, socked feet kicking in the air, while Hunk sits next to her and polishes his bayard. Keith shades and smears and rubs at his graphite and a reproduction of the scene springs to life on paper.

“Hey, Hunk,” Pidge says. It’s fifteen minutes after Keith’s finished that scene and moved on to a sketch of Shiro and Hunk sparring, using a still from one of Pidge’s spy cameras.

“Yeah, Pidge?” 

“I’m lesbian.”

“I thought you were American.”

“I thought you were asexual?” Keith asks, looking up from his sketchbook. Hunk is smiling and Pidge is in stitches, so Keith lets it go. He’s learning to let a lot go, where memes are concerned.

*~*~*~*~*

Lotor and Lance stare each other down from opposite sides of the room. Keith waits and watches, because he knows that Lance can save himself and he won’t intervene unnecessarily but he’s seen Lotor’s skill with a sword. And Lance is talented, of course he is, but he’s inexperienced with a sword and Lotor is vicious.

“You would do well to watch yourself, Paladin,” Lotor says, and his upper lip curls into a sneer, flashing his Galra fangs. “It would be foolish of you to cross me.”

“You better watch out,” Lance says. 

“You better watch out,” Pidge says, and when did she get here?

“You better watch out,” Matt says. Keith is confused, because they weren’t here fifteen seconds ago.

“You better watch out,” Hunk says, and then all four of them advance towards Lotor, singing slowly and in unison. The chant is threatening, although Lotor look more confused than anything. 

“You better watch out. You better watch out. You better watch out. You better watch out! You better watch out! _You better watch out! YOU BETTER WATCH OUT!”_ The last chorus is deafening, all four of them shouting straight into Lotor’s face before scrambling out of the room like rats fleeing a sinking ship.

“You might want to instill a sense of decorum in your teammates,” Lotor says to Keith, disgusted.

“You might want to instill a sense of humor up your ass,” Keith says, stalking out of the room. He didn’t get the joke, either, but he hates Lotor, and that’s enough to make it funny.

*~*~*~*~*

Lance strums an out-of-tune chord on the guitar, naked save for his boxer shorts and wearing a backwards snapback (where did he get a snapback in space? Where did he get a _guitar_ in space?). “I love you, bitch!” he says, pointing straight at Keith. Keith doesn’t understand what’s happening, but Lance has a _very nice chest_ and Keith is _very very gay_.

Hunk is filming, he’s sure of it, and if he’s not, Keith would put money on one of Pidge’s spy cams being in the vicinity.

Lance strums the guitar again. “I ain’t never gonna stop lovin’ you, _bitch_!”

“I love you too,” Keith mutters, grabbing the guitar strap and pulling Lance in for a kiss.

“That’s gay PDA,” Pidge shouts, gleeful. “Y’all owe thirty GAC each to the PDA jar!" 

“Put a sock in it, Pidge,” Lance mutters, low and husky against Keith’s lips, before he dips Keith back in for another kiss.

*~*~*~*~*

Keith’s eye twitches. This is, without a doubt, the worst disaster the paladins have ever gotten up to. And they’ve done a _lot_ of stupid shit in their days. 

“Keith, I promise this isn’t what it looks like,” Shiro says, hands in a placating gesture, like he _isn’t_ slung around Hunk’s shoulders in a fireman carry and Pidge _isn’t_ currently drowning in food goo and Allura _isn’t_ currently trying to get the mice to steal stuff from Lotor’s pockets without him noticing.

“Fuck this shit, I’m out,” Keith says, and then he remembers that there’s a _song_ and they don’t think he knows it. 

A plan forms in half a tick, and Keith is committed instantly.

“ _Fuck this shit I’m out,_ ” he sings, striding across the room. “ _Fuck this shit I’m out. Don’t mind me, Imma just grab my stuff and leave, ‘scuse me please._ ” He wraps his arms around Lance (thankfully, he’s clean) and swings him up in a bridal carry. 

“Keith, what are you –”

“ _Fuck this shit I’m out._ ”

“No,” Lance whispers, giggling, because clearly, he knows where this is going. 

“ _Fuck this shit I’m out._ ” He makes scathing eye contact with every single person in the room, all of whom look away in guilt or stare on in incredulous wonder. Keith makes sure to enunciate the next line very clearly. 

“ _I don’t know what the_ fuck _just happened, but I don’t really care, Imma get the fuck up out of here_.” 

“ _Fuck this shit I’m out_!” Lance sings, gleeful, as Keith strides out of the room, flipping off everyone in it. he makes it all the way back to his room before he collapses in fits of laughter, dropping Lance unceremoniously on the bed.

“Keith, babe, _holy fucking shit_ you just _memed the quiznak_ out of Voltron!” Lance shrieks. “I didn’t know you had it in you!” Keith stands up, turns towards Lance, and ends up on the floor again almost immediately when Lance flings himself off of the bed and tackles them both to the ground.

“You’re a secret meme lord, Keith Elizabeth Kogane –”

“Not my middle name.”

“– and I love you for it.”

Lance presses his lips to Keith’s, and Keith laughs into their kisses.

*~*~*~*~*

They do a Secret Santa in the dorms around Christmas time, at the Galaxy Garrison. Keith draws Pidge’s name; he doesn’t know a lot about him, but he’s a communications officer. Keith buys a pair of inexpensive but good quality headphones and spends fifteen minutes on WikiHow trying to learn how to wrap presents before giving up and using a gift bag.

Pidge genuinely seems to enjoy his present. He thanks Keith, voice soft but sincere, and traces his fingers carefully over the packaging when he thinks Keith isn’t looking. (Keith is looking, and it makes him happy that Pidge appreciates the headphones, but he isn’t going to say anything.)

Lance’s friend, Hunk, drew him, and Keith is both pleased that he didn’t draw Lance’s name and suspicious that Hunk may have rigged the drawing to get Lance’s name (or bribed whoever _did_ draw Lance’s name to switch with him). Lance makes a big show of unwrapping a Tupperware container full of what look like brownies. 

“The Tupperware isn’t part of your gift, I borrowed that from home, and I need it back when you eat all the brownies,” Hunk clarifies, but he’s laughing, cheeks flushed from the definitely-not-illegally-spiked punch. Lance reassures him, smirking, and pulls out the next part of the gift, which is a hand-made coupon book for free baked goods. Keith can see stipulations written in increasingly smaller print in the margins, but Lance seems genuinely pleased with it anyway.

The last gift is rounded and lumpy, and Keith has no idea what it could possibly be, other than a very small, extremely deformed football, or perhaps a potato. Lance tears off the red wrapping paper to reveal –

“It’s an avocado!” Lance says, but there’s something different about the way he says _avocado_. “Thaaaaaankssssss.” The word _thanks_ is a descending glissando, with the _s_ drawn out, and it’s sounds incredibly sarcastic and insincere. Hunk just laughs even harder, and Lance is laughing too, eyes sparkling (Keith is not thinking about the Star of Bombay, he’s not, he’s _not_ ).

Keith decides it must be a private joke between the two of them and puts it out of his mind for the rest of the evening.

*~*~*~*~*

Lance bounces his foot up and down on the floor in irritation, shoulder jiggling against Keith’s arm. Lotor and Allura are talking in the doorway, heads bent together over some information screen, and Keith really wants to leave but he also doesn’t want to interrupt this conversation.

“I really hate that he’s here, you know,” Lance says. Keith nods in agreement, flexes his fingers into and out of a fist just to remind himself of the strength there. There’s no reason to fight Lotor (besides his undying hatred, and that should be a good reason in and of itself), but he likes knowing that he _can_ , should the opportunity arise. And Keith is praying that it does arise.

Lance sighs, long and loud and dramatic. “All right, I’ve have enough of this. We need to go or he needs to, and he’s not gonna move without prompting.”

“What are you gonna do?” 

“I’m gonna give him some prompting,” Lance grins. He strides towards Lotor and Allura, beckoning Keith to follow him. He takes great care to only push Lotor and not the Princess, shouting loudly and dramatically, “I’m making copies! Move, I’m gay!” He’s decidedly more flamboyant than he normally is, but Keith doesn’t question it in front of Lotor. He follows Lance, making stony, glaring eye contact with Lotor the entire time.

Once they’re safely outside in the hallway, out of Lotor and Allura’s earshot, Keith asks, “I thought you were bisexual?”

Lance kisses him. “You got that right, mullet.” Keith doesn’t push the issue; it’s probably a meme, and why would he focus on that when he’s got Lance, soft and warm and willing against his mouth, and Lance’s hands in his hair.

*~*~*~*~*

“Can I get a waffle?”

Keith ignores Pidge in favor of Lance’s mouth. He tastes like apples, somehow, even though they’re in the middle of space, and his lips are always so soft. Lance’s whole face is soft, despite his sharp chin and his long nose and his _jawline_ ; it must be the skincare routine. One hand is in Lance’s hair, absently rubbing the silky texture against his fingers, and the other is wrapped around Lance’s waist.

Lance kisses back, eager and willing, pulling away from Keith’s face to nip at his jawline. Keith sighs into Lance’s hair as he tips his head back to kiss him again, and then –

“Can I _please_ get a waffle?” 

“We’re not making out in the middle of the common room, Pidge, get the PDA jar out of my face,” Lance mumbles.

“If anything, you owe _us_ money for breaking into my room,” Keith says. Pidge rattles the PDA jar at them as she leaves, rolling her eyes and muttering something about “love-struck idiots”. 

“If she wanted a waffle, she should’ve asked Hunk, not us,” Keith tells Lance.

“Keith, I love you, but shut up.”

*~*~*~*~*

Keith really needs to stop training into the wee hours of the morning. At the very least, he needs to stop going into the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning _after_ training. He just wanted a snack, maybe one of those Altean nutrition space-Capri-Sun things. He did _not_ want to see Hunk holding a tangled mess of pipe and wearing sunglasses, with Pidge also wearing sunglasses and standing next to the oven.

Hunk starts playing the whatever-it-is, and it kind of sounds like a trombone. After a few ticks, Pidge joins in, slamming the oven door to the beat and head-banging so furiously Keith wonders how her sunglasses are staying on.

He leaves, resolving to take his food out of the kitchen _before_ 2 am so that he doesn’t encounter any more of these late-night shenanigans.

*~*~*~*~*

“What the _fuck_ is up, Kyle?!”

Lotor looks exactly as confused as Keith feels. Lance is glaring at him, arms crossed. Allura is watching from the control panel with Shiro, Hunk and Matt are struggling to keep a straight face, and Pidge is filming the whole thing.

“What the _fuck_ is up, Kyle?! No, what did you say? _What the fuck_ , dude, step the _fuck_ up, Kyle?!”

“That is . . . not my name,” Lotor manages.

“You think I give a fuck?” Lance crows. Lotor looks incensed. Keith is exactly as confused as Lotor, and yet, he has never been more in love with Lance.

*~*~*~*~*

“Pidge, Pidge, _oh my God come look at this_.” 

Lance is holding an alien plant that looks suspiciously like marijuana – except that it’s blue. Pidge takes one look and begins _cackling_. “Lance, Lance, give me that.”

Keith doesn’t bother pointing out that they’re supposed to be on a mission right now. it’s not urgent, and even if it was, Lance and Pidge will focus better once they’ve gotten their “meme-ing” out of the way.

Pidge creeps up behind Shiro and taps him on the shoulder. When he turns around, she thrusts the plant in his face and says, “Dad, look! It’s the good kush!" 

Shiro doesn’t respond for an agonizingly long minute, but when he does, his voice is deeper than normal and monotone, voice a complete deadpan.

“This is the Dollar Store, how good can it be?" 

Pidge laughs so hard she almost tumbles down a ravine five minutes later. Shiro looks immensely pleased with himself.

“You know, he’s secretly exactly as hopeless with memes or whatever they’re called as I am,” Keith whispers to Lance. “You guys just keep picking the few he knows about because he happened to be friends with Matt at the Garrison.”

“You gotta take the meme opportunities you get, Keith.”

*~*~*~*~*

Keith’s never been very fashion-forward. Living in a shack in the desert on the run from the government for a year doesn’t really help you stay on top of the fashion trends, and Keith’s not interested in it anyways. He really doesn’t understand what the big deal is about wearing one color and not another, or wearing his pants a certain length, or whatnot.

He walks into the control room one morning half-asleep, in his pajamas – loose red pants, elastic waisted, a black tank top, and slippers. They’re soft and they look like the Red Lion. They’re a little tacky, even for Keith’s taste, but they’re comfortable, and he likes them. He’s not expecting Pidge and Matt to be in there, arguing about some obscure strand of code. 

“Mornin,” Keith mumbles, still half-asleep. Pidge and Matt look at each other, smirking, and Keith is far too tired to process what they’re doing.

“Hey Keith,” Pidge asks, pushing away from the computer screen to stand in front of him. 

“Yes, Pidge?” 

Pidge and Matt press their palms together, fingertips against the bottoms of their noses, eyes closed, and inhale deeply through their noses. They point their hands at his slippers and exclaim, in unison, “ _What are thoooooooooose?_ ” 

“They’re my slippers,” Keith says, too tired to care. Pidge and Matt are both laughing, loud and strong, and Keith decides that he’s not having it this morning and goes back to bed, where Lance is still sleeping. He curls around Lance’s warm body like a cat, presses a kiss to his forehead, and goes back to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*

They find a beach planet, one day, and they take a day to have fun there. Pidge and Matt immediately start building a complicated sand replica of the castle ship, Lance jumps into the water, and Keith stretches out on the sand with a sketchbook. He does quick sketches, ten to fifteen minutes each, watching the way the sun sparkles off the sea. Lance comes out of the water, still dripping wet, and sits next to Keith, resting his soaked head on Keith’s bare shoulder.

“You have freckles here, you know,” Lance murmurs, gently kissing Keith’s shoulder. Keith doesn’t generally see enough sun for them to appear, but he knows they’re there, faint though they may be. Lance, on the other hand, is tanned as can be, freckles standing out against his shoulders and face like a million tiny stars. Keith has traced constellations between them a million times, late and night and early in the morning and the middle of the day. 

“Are you going to swim?” Lance asks. 

“Probably not.” It isn’t that Keith _can’t_ swim, he’s just not interested in plunging into strange alien waters. It might not even be water, for all he knows. He’s staying on the shore and he’s staying dry, thank you very much. Lance shrugs, kisses his cheek quickly, and scuttles off to play with Hunk and Pidge. Keith’s fingertips rest lightly over the spot where Lance’s lips touch his skin, and he smiles (but only to himself). The sun is warm, and Keith’s muscles are sore, and the sunshine soaks into his bones. He feels positively wonderful. 

Keith hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but when he opens his eyes again, Lance is completely buried in a mountain of sand. His head sticks out, wet hair matted against his forehead.

“I am the sand guardian! Guardian of the sand!” 

Hunk flings himself dramatically against the sand pile. “Poseidon quivers before him!”

Lance looks out towards the ocean. “Fuck off!” 

Keith closes his eyes, fully prepared to go back to sleep, when there’s a roaring noise from the ocean and Lance is screaming as a sea monster rears up towards him. He sighs, stands, and summons his bayard.

So much for a day off.

*~*~*~*~*

Hunk sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, piping bag centimeters from the surface of the cake. Lance is perched on the counter, watching like a hawk. The second icing begins coming out of the piping bag, Lance reaches over and lightly taps his fist against Hunk’s face in a sort of faux punch. The icing skids across the cake, a long, jagged line of dark blue smeared across the mint-green base. 

“Oh, fuck! I can’t believe you’ve done this,” Hunk says, and he’s affecting a British accent again. Hunk squirts the piping bag directly at Lance, who squawks in indignation, grabs a bowl of icing, and flings a spoonful at Lance.

Keith slips out the door just as a glob of icing hits it. He _really_ needs to stop coming into the kitchen.

*~*~*~*~*

Lance curls around Keith, legs tangling together, face pressed into the soft, curly black hair around Keith’s ear. Keith lets his fingers play along Lance’s bared chest and shoulders, drawing constellations in his freckles. “Leo,” he murmurs. “Ursa Major. Sirius. Pleiades. Columbina.” 

Lance is mostly-asleep, singing quietly into Keith’s hair. Keith rubs his nose along Lance’s collarbone, pressing a kiss into the dip between the two of them.

“Don’t tell your mother,” Lance hums, breath warm against Keith’s ear. “Kiss one another.” It’s soothing, and Keith is already warm and comfortable, and he’s falling asleep when Lance continues his little song.

“Die for each other.”

“No!” Keith gasps, pushing Lance away. Lance sits up, rubbing at his eyes, but Keith’s heart is already hammering against his chest. 

“Babe, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” 

“I don’t want you dying for me,” Keith says, cupping Lance’s face and squeezing a little harder than normal. “We’re not going to die for each other, do you understand me? We’re going to live for each other, we’re – we’re –”

“Keith.” Lance runs a thumb beneath his eye. “It was a joke. It was a Vine, Keith, it was a meme.”

“You’re not allowed to die for me,” Keith says, fierce and angry. Lance smiles, the soft, vulnerable smile he reserves only for Keith. He leans in, slowly, and presses a kiss to Keith’s left cheek, then the right. He kisses Keith’s forehead, kisses the tip of his nose, presses their noses together, and then presses their mouths together.

“Only if you promise not to die for me.”

Keith kisses Lance’s forehead. “Alright.” He lays back down, and Keith fits himself against Lance’s chest again, and they drift back to sleep. Keith presses another soft kiss to Lance’s collarbone, just to feel the pulse beneath it, warm and steady and _real_.

That’s all the proof he needs.

*~*~*~*~*

“Hey, Lance, I’m making dinner! What do you want to eat?" 

“The souls of the innocent,” Pidge snarls, voice raspy and low.

“A bagel!” Lance says brightly.

“No!” Pidge wails, collapsing dramatically onto the floor.

“Two bagels!”

“We have space bagels?”

“It’s a meme, Keith.”

*~*~*~*~*

Keith wraps his hands around Red’s controls, feeling her presence thrum steady and strong in the back of his mind. He’s back where he belongs, confident and cocky, with a streak of blue lightning on his left and a winged black lion at his back.

“ _We have to break through that barricade!_ ” Shiro calls. “ _Pidge, engage cloaking! See if you can sneak through and attack it from the other side! We’ll do what we can here. Keith, if you get an opening, go around the back with Pidge._ ”

“Yes, sir!” Keith calls. A barrage of lasers rains toward him, but he just laughs and urges Red forward, spinning like a drill bit. He evades the Galra fire skillfully, taking out ships left and right. He hears Lance whooping through the comms, sees frozen Galra ships drift by aimlessly, feels the reverb from the sonic cannon in his sternum. 

He can see the Green Lion on his infrared scanners; for the moment, Pidge is undetected, but he knows sooner or later she’ll be spotted. He needs to be there to help her when that happens. There’s an opening, and he guns Red forward, but a Galra fighter appears at the last moment. He’s going too fast to stop, and there’s no time to fire. They’re on a collision course.

“ _Keith, I’m on my way!_ ” Lance calls, but Keith knows that Red outpaces Blue speedwise by a wide margin, knows Lance won’t get there in time. So he grits his teeth and sends a silent plea to Red. _Make it happen. Please._

At the moment of impact, Red swings his head forward like a baseball bat and knocks the Galra fighter out of the way. It goes flying into another fighter, taking them both out.

“ _Damn, Keith!_ ” Hunk laughs. Lance is cackling in his ear as he ices a wave of incoming reinforcements.

“ _Move, bitch, get out the way! Get out the way, bitch, get out the way_!” he sings. Keith rolls his eyes and swerves around to join Pidge. He can worry about this after they take down the base.

*~*~*~*~*

Pidge gestures a hand towards the castle window, where a large flock of bird-like aliens are soaring through the skies. Voltron had liberated this planet several quintants ago, and they’d returned to check up on it to find a resurgence of the native life. 

“Look at all those _chickens_!” she says. Lance and Matt laugh. Keith is pretty sure that Earth chickens are largely flightless birds, but he doesn’t say anything.

*~*~*~*~*

“Hey Pidge, I think I spilled water on your modulator.”

Pidge splutters. “Wha – who – wha – _lipstick in my Valentino?!_ ”

Keith didn’t think she wore makeup.

“Seriously, though, if anything happened to my modulator I will _kick your scrawny ass, McClain_.”

Keith doesn’t think she’s serious (her eyebrow twitches when she’s serious), but Lance is intimidated enough to scramble out of the room.

*~*~*~*~*

Lance lets his bayard grow into the Altean broadsword, gleaming and sharp. Keith tosses his knife up and down, weighing its merits before eventually deciding to leave it as a knife. 

Allura looks between them. “Are you ready?”

“Well, how about it, samurai? Are you ready to get your ass handed to you?” Lance smirks. Keith huffs a laugh. 

“Bring it, sharpshooter.” 

Allura brings her hand down. “Begin!”

Keith lunges forward almost immediately – he knows his way around a blade, and knives are definitely close-combat tools – but Lance sidesteps and bring the broadsword down, hard. Keith rolls forward, pivoting around to face Lance as soon as he pops up. He throws a punch with one hand while bringing the knife around with the other; Lance dodges the punch and catches the knife on his shield.

Lance is good, Keith won’t lie. Hunk and Pidge are fairly easy sparring opponents; Allura and Shiro are more of a challenge, but Keith’s defeated both of them before. (He’s lost to Allura a couple of times, and God only knows how many times Shiro had handed his ass to him, at the Garrison and in space.) Lance is new. In the beginning, they didn’t spar because they still thought they hated each other, and Allura was worried (rightly so) that they’d kill each other if they went at it full force. Then they got together, and Keith went away, and there just hasn’t been time. 

Lance is good, but he’s heavy-handed. Broadswords weren’t meant for fencing, or for close combat; they’re meant to cut, rather than stab. Lance is relying primarily on the sword’s weight to carry it through. Keith watches him for four more turns, keeping his attacks light and glancing, watching how long it takes Lance to ready himself for the followthrough. He slides forward on his knees, just like he’d done with the robot when Alfor’s corrupted AI infected the castle, and he has a plan. 

“Running away?” Lance teases. Keith stands, turns, and tosses his knife back and forth between his hands. The advantages of ambidexterity are many, especially when you fight with handheld weaponry.

“You wish.” Keith throws himself across the arena when the knife is still in the air, so that Lance doesn’t see what hand it lands in. The broadsword is in the air; Keith brings his left hand forward like he’s going to stab at Lance’s shoulder. The shield comes to block him, but Keith’s hand is empty. He grabs the top of the shield, letting the expanded knife come up in his right hand and send Lance’s bayard flying. He yanks the shield forward when he crouches, sweeping a leg into Lance’s ankles and knocking him flat on his back.

Lance lays there, stunned, as Keith, panting and out of breath but victorious, stands, putting the tip of his blade at Lance’s throat. There is absolute silence for fifteen seconds.

“Hunk, Pidge, what did I tell you to do in this situation,” Lance says flatly. “Under no circumstance, what are you to do when this happens?”

Hunk and Pidge both stand. They take deep breaths, and they begin to sing.

“ _Mmm whatcha saaaaaayy, mmm that you only meant well? Well of course you did. Mm whatcha saaaayy, mmm that it’s all for the best? Of course it is. Mm whatcha saaaaayyyy._ ”

They keep singing as Keith lets Lance up, offering a hand to pull him up. Lance takes it, but instead of standing, he pulls Keith down to lay on top of him. Their faces end up centimeters apart.

“Hey,” Lance grins. “Sharp work, samurai.”

“Not so bad yourself,” Keith says. “Why are they – no, don’t tell me. It’s a meme, right?” 

“Mmhmm.” Lance kisses Keith quickly. “That’s your prize for winning, Keith.” 

“It doesn’t count,” Keith argues, “because you would have demanded the same thing if you won!” 

“Yeah, but the winner gets to be on top.” Lance wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as Keith shoves himself off in disgust.

*~*~*~*~*

“Hey, Lance, do you want the rest of this?” Pidge waves one of the vitamin-drink pouches in the air.

“Sure, Pidgeotto.”

Pidge tosses the pouch across the room. Lance catches it in one hand, unscrews the top, and tips it back. He pulls it away from his mouth and narrows his eyes at Pidge. 

“Pidge.”

“Yes, Lance?” she says, the picture of innocence.

“This bitch empty.” No one moves, and then Lance takes a step forward into a baseball pitcher’s stance, hurls the apparently-empty drink pouch at her head, and screeches, “ _YEET!_ ” 

Pidge ducks out of the way and sprints out of the room, laughing, with Lance hot on her heels.

“Do I even wanna know?” Keith asks Hunk. 

“No. No you do not.”  

*~*~*~*~*

The general hoists Keith up by the front of his armor, which puts an uncomfortable pressure on his throat. His knife is across the room, embedded in the wall from when he threw it. There’s a piece missing from his chest plate, a crack in his visor, a cut on his forehead dripping blood dangerously close to the corner of his left eye, and a throbbing pain in his right wrist which means he probably sprained it.

“There is no help coming for you now, Paladin,” the general laughs. “Your friends have deserted you. They will leave this base for the sake of the mission, and you will perish here, forgotten and alone.” 

Keith’s eyes flicker from the general’s face to a ledge that runs around the perimeter of the room. A door has opened, just slightly, silently enough that the general has not heard, and there is a glint near the floor that Keith recognizes. He’s seen this in training maneuvers. He knows what it means.

He laughs, dry and raspy, but it’s enough to draw the general’s interest. “What amuses you, paladin? Do you not understand that your best course of action is to be for mercy and pray that I grant it to you?” 

“There will be no mercy,” Keith spits. “Victory or death is the Galra way. You don’t know the meaning of the word.” The general leers at him, mouth bristling with too many too-yellow needlepoint teeth.

“If you understand the gravity of the situation, then why do you laugh? You know what awaits you.”

The light flashes once, twice, three times, waiting for a signal. Keith takes a deep breath, makes direct eye contact with the general, and sings. 

“My boyfriend’s back and you’re gonna get in trouble!”

The general drops Keith and whirls around just in time to receive a sniper shot through the chest. They collapse, stunned, as Lance swings down from the ledge and runs across the room. He kicks the general aside and pulls Keith against his chest. 

“Keith! Keith, baby, oh my God, talk to me. Keith, darling, starshine, love of my life, are you alright?” Keith knows it’s bad because Lance is really laying it on thick with the pet names. His head is still spinning slightly (he probably has a concussion) as Lance pulls off his helmet and gently touches their foreheads together.

“Hey la, hey la, my boyfriend’s back,” Keith giggles. He’s close enough to Lance’s comm to hear Pidge’s shrieking laughter, as well as a very audible thump. “What was that?”

Garbled static crackles in Lance’s ear. “It was Hunk. He straight up fell out of his chair because he couldn’t believe that you just memed,” Lance murmurs. “Do I tell him that it’s because you hit your head and have a concussion or do I just let him believe you’re a secret meme lord.”

“But I _am_ a secret meme lord,” Keith protests, letting Lance haul them to their feet.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe,” Lance laughs, kissing Keith’s hair. “Whatever boats your float.” 

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: the reason keith uses male pronouns for pidge in the "it's a avocado! thaaaaanksss" scene is bc pidge was undercover as a boy at the garrison at that time so keith thought she was a boy, hence the male pronouns, you're welcome.  
> the two main vine compilations i used to write this are [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8m6E57ZLM8M) and [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zbJT1qf_oOU)  
> come scream at me on tumblr!!//[@teacupfulofstarshine](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/teacupfulofstarshine)  
> i'm also on discord!!//@bluesimon #8213


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